Benediction
by Reno Spiegel
Summary: ...Supply also, by Thy mercy, whatever defects have been in this my confession, and give me grace to be now and always a true penitent. Through the same...


Benediction  
  
by Reno Spiegel  
  
Dante@towernetwork.net  
  
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The sinner met the savior's eyes at the end of the service, perhaps during the benediction, with a gaze that would have bemused most others. The priest held his eyes, finishing the sermon before pouring holy water on a pit of hot coals -- standard practice here at the Midgar Community Church -- and turning tightly, walking out of the area he stood in for three hours every Sunday morning in the blistering heat, directly behind the pit of hot coals.  
  
This place had once been deemed "Aeris' Church" for roughly three days, from the flower girl that had died saving the Planet from Meteor, but the name had been tossed as soon as the remaining members of AVALANCHE had died coming back from the Northern Crater, a piloting mistake by one Cid Highwind. No survivors aside from Vincent Valentine, who was executed for his crimes against ShinRa shortly thereafter, though complications from the crash would have taken their final toll in a few hours.  
  
The law was bent for no man, woman, nor child.  
  
As the commnity of the slums, assisted with seating issues by additions to the pews and walls, began their slow trudge out the door, the sinner walked after the priest to the confessional, stroking his slowly-greying beard all the while. The average lifespan after the fumes from the Lifestream floating around -- for all time, for all their generation would know -- was around fifty-five, and so they all aged a bit faster these days. He opened the door opposite the man, sat, and closed it behind him, respecting the wrinkling man on the other side and bowing his head.  
  
Once the panel slid open, he began:  
  
"My God, I am most heartily sorry for all my sins; and I detest them above all things, because they displease Thee, Who art infinitely good and amiable, and I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to do penance for them, and never more to offend Thee."  
  
There was an uncertain silence as they sat there, side by side, separated by a thin wall of wood, each deep in thought. Then the priest's voice, calm and collected, drifted through to the sinner's left ear.  
  
"Confess your sins, my son, for God's ears are always open to those wishing to speak to Him."  
  
He almost looked over, but stopped himself. An instinct had just won over, one that raised the would-be hackles on the back of his neck, though he was no longer refered to widely as a dog, and he had no intent to strike the open-eared man bowing his head to his left.  
  
"Father, I have committed all of the seven deadliest sins at least once in my short time on this Planet, and I fear that redemption may be too far for a troubled soul such as myself. And so I come seeking forgiveness and assistance with the burden of these troubles as my time draws near to pass on to the other side of this world. I also come seeking guidance with the meaning of a message I've found from an acquaintance long since past."  
  
With a small bit of hesitance in his voice, the priest's response was one of inevitability. "What did it say, my child?"  
  
There was a crinkling of stale paper as the sinner drew forth the small note, folded with beautiful perfection, from his breast pocket. In some far off land, he heard an identical sound, and his soul took another step from his body as his left hand went back to gripping his black book.  
  
"In reading this note, you have accepted the obligation to the first Turk rule, and that is to eliminate all other traces of the organization -"  
  
The priest chimed in, small but powerful, reading alone in time with him.  
  
"- should a separation permamently occur and I am no longer available for a regrouping. This is clearly stated on the contract of the bearer of this message, and the operation must be carried out under any circumnstances, come your own life or death. Sincerely, Tseng Yasukii."  
  
Two old hands put similar slips of paper, once folded, back into their confinement, and an air of silence once again drifted over them. This time, it was the priest who spoke, repeating what the sinner had already announced:  
  
"My God, I am most heartily sorry for all my sins; and I detest them above all things, because they displease Thee, Who art infinitely good and amiable, and I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to do penance for them, and never more to offend Thee."  
  
Tears slipped from worn, azure eyes that had seen everything from his first victim's pool of blood to his drugs being shot by people who had died after never repaying the loan shark he had warned them about to the nurse's hand as the pulled the plug on Tseng Yasukii's life-support and let the old man have fifteen seconds of unassisted life before saying his final words -- "I love you all..." -- and falling silent.  
  
On the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Turks, he had taken up his old, golden box, opened it, and tried the suit on to find it still fit as well as the day it was handed down to him. He had explored the pockets in that fashion everyone takes on when finding an old heirloom, and found a twenty-three year old note, identical in words to the ones received by his two living comrades.  
  
To spare one the pain of seeing it happen, he had removed the other.  
  
"What burdens you, my dear old friend?" he choked out, almost losing it, but it was highly apparent that the other man, beard fully grey and himself only being two years advanced to the other, was having the same difficulties speaking and thinking about his short life at the same time.  
  
"I have committed the deadliest of sins, though one no longed acknowledged by the general population of the Midgarian church-goers, thus being betrayal of my non-blood brethren, one who deserves much more in life than I was ever granted for my crimes against this very world. I only wish he were here to let these words grace his own ears instead of those of two, tired elders who have nothing left in life but the God that gave them such and the God who shall never take such away should luck and desire prevail."  
  
Their breathing was labored because of the burden still resting -- yet religiously lifted -- from their weakened, breaking shoulders, and they stood up, neither daring to look across and see the droplets in the other's eyes, eyes that had glinted many years ago, eyes that no longer had the old flair in them. Eyes that would never meet again on this Planet.  
  
As if summoned by some great power, and perhaps it had been, an old paragraph came from deep inside the both of them:  
  
"O almighty and most merciful God, who, according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies, has vouchsafed once more to receive Thy prodigal child after so many times going astray from thre, and to admit me to this sacrament of reconciliation; I give Thee thanks with all the powers of my soul for this and all other mercies, graces, and blessings bestowed on me, and, prostrating myself at Thy sacred feet, I offer myself to be henceforth for ever Thine. Oh, let nothing in life or death ever separate me from Thee. I renounce with my whole soul all my treasons against Thee, and all the abominations and sins of my past life. I renew my promises made in baptism, and from this moment I dedicate myself eternally to Thy love and sacrifice. Oh, grant me that for the time I may abhor sin more than death itself, and avoid all such occasions and companies as have unhappily brought me to it. This I resolve to do by the aid of Thy divine grace, without which I can do nothing. I beg Thy blessing upon these my resolutions, that they may not be ineffactual, like so many others I have formerly made; for, O Lord, without Thee I am nothing but misery and sin. Supply also, by Thy mercy, whatever defects have been in this my confession, and give me grace to be now and always a true penitent. Through the same..."  
  
Both fingering the frayed edges of their Holy book, the men drew forth their guns, smooth as the day they'd been given them, one over thirty years ago, one just twenty-five prior. They held their weapons to the screen between them, neither having stood beside the other in twenty years, but neither forgetting the height of the other. It was like stopping suddenly in a dead-run. It hurt like hell, but anyone stopping from that speed had a good reason for it.  
  
Closing their eyes, each mentally wishing they could look over at the other but remembering that it hurt less when you saw the face's expression, they clutched their books to their chests, and both, heaving a sigh, said the last word that would be heard by the other.  
  
"Amen."  
  
A hard crack was heard when the priest fell, lips uttering a small cry and a whispered, "Adios, Reno," made by him splitting the side of the confessional, nearly tipping it.  
  
At the same time, however, the sinner hit the other side with equal force and balanced them out, leaving no disturbance but the slacked jaws of the remaining confessors outside the booth as they scrambled to pry open the doors. And his own words before it all went black, whispered to a dead man that would never hear him but knew it all the same.  
  
"Thank you, Father Rude."  
  
And there they lay.  
  
Once Turks.  
  
Forever brethren.  
  
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-Fin 


End file.
